It Is Always A Beautiful Day

by Ellen Auerbach, 1929

It hurts again. It feels like the curdling blue wringing in my insides, shriveling them, making them sharp and condensed and fighting against itself to collapse. It feels like I’m on aderall, I’m not on aderall. I can’t go back to what I love because the memories are too painful. You’ve ruined everything just by existing, it’s not your fault, I can’t have what I want. I want to be free and bewildered. I miss being well. I miss my hard shell.

let songs and fashion banalize words

I haven’t even met u and I already feel abused

I came when u interacted with my morphogenetic field like that. Do it again

I hate you Alice Weidel u a fuckin traitor

If u run an archive account God will let you achieve salvation